


Dog Days

by neko_fish



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dog Universe, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neko_fish/pseuds/neko_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dog!verse. Jim finds himself surrounded by growls in the transporter room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Days

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Dog Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12115593) by [red_button](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_button/pseuds/red_button)



> Lots of love to siluria for beta-ing! And a dog biscuit to my dog for putting up with me.

With all the practice he’s had over the years, Jim Kirk’s become very well versed in what ‘good news’ and ‘bad news’ sound like. Well, he has a long, extensive list of ‘bad news sounds’, and anything that’s not found there can more or less be considered ‘good news’. As far as his ‘bad news’ list goes, being greeted by angry growls in the transporter room is somewhere near the top, bold, italicized and underlined at least twice.  
  
Jim inwardly sighs. He was  _so_  close and  _so_  ready to goad and flaunt over how peacefully the diplomatic negotiation had gone. Sure, it was supposed to be peaceful all along, but no one can really predict the outcome when Jim Kirk’s leading the landing party.  
  
He thinks about Bones and how ready he was to rub his great success in the man’s face. They had made a bet on whether or not he would manage to  _not_ get fucked up this time, and he’d clearly just lost because growls usually lead to fuckage, fuckocity, and general fuckery.  
  
There goes his victory sex.  
  
Of course, leave it to the universe to take his victory sex away at the last second possible, Jim thinks with annoyance.  
  
Finally allowing himself to look around to locate the sources of growling, his eyes widen when he finds a pack of dogs standing in front of him, their hackles raised and teeth on display. He has mixed feelings about this. Under normal circumstances, Jim loves dogs. But when there’s an entire pack waiting to maul him to pieces, he can’t help but feel a little less… _enthusiastic_ about them. In the back of his head, he can practically hear Bones listing off all the diseases dogs can carry.  
  
_Mange, Parvo, Rabies, Chagas, Lyme disease, Leptospirosis, kennel cough, hepatitis…._  
  
Glancing around, Jim realizes that he’s on the Enterprise, but his crew’s nowhere in sight.  
  
“Well, this is new,” he mutters to himself in surprise.  
  
Not wanting to risk upsetting a pack of possibly rabid dogs, and with nowhere else to go, he stands there and waits. Suddenly, there’s a bark and a large dog makes its way through the pack towards him with no small amount of soft, annoyed sounding growls. The other dogs obediently step aside to let it though. Short black and brown fur, floppy ears, and tail stubbornly limp, Jim’s instantly reminded of Bones.  
  
The dog shoots him a wary look before approaching him with caution. Jim stands perfectly still and allows the dog to sniff him over a couple times. Then he notices something: a blue collar around the dog’s neck with a tag resembling Starfleet’s emblem. His eyes widen and he steals a glance at the other dogs’ collars. Each had a red, blue, or yellow collar wrapped around their necks and the same emblem.  
  
Jim wants to laugh but refrains because if he wasn’t convinced that the world was against him before, he sure as hell is now. But really, he thinks, sending him to another universe just to take away his victory sex is borderline ‘a little too extreme’.  
  
The dog he’s assuming to be Bones turns back to the pack and barks a couple times. They all relax and some leave with their tails hung in disappointment. He barks again, softer this time, and another large dog with sharp, pointy ears and sleek, mostly black fur approaches them.  
  
Jim has no doubt that it’s Spock. The measured steps and the no-nonsense aura radiating from the dog only serve to reinforce his theory. He relaxes a little, because despite being dogs, his crew’s still his crew, and it’s not likely that they’ll attack him—and with Bones as the CMO, all their vaccinations are definitely up to date.  
  
He wonders what the canine equivalent of an eyebrow arch is.  
  
Before he can say anything, there’s something cold pressed against his behind and a swirl of memories flood his head. Jim’s alternate universe theory is confirmed when he learns that he’s been transported to a universe run by dogs, meaning his canine counterpart was probably on  _his_  ship with  _his_  crew.  
  
At one point, it occurs to him that he’s mind-melding with a dog. It’s strange and not exactly something he ever expected to do in his lifetime. Leonard’s going to have a fit when he hears about this, he thinks.  
  
A moment later, it’s over. He instinctively draws in a deep breath and opens his eyes. Instead of horror or dread, all he feels is curiosity as to how Spock managed to mind meld with him without ever touching his head. “Spock, how’d you…?” He turns around and looks down to see Spock returning an unimpressed gaze from behind him. Then he remembers the feeling of a muzzle at his rear and gapes. “You didn’t just… Oh god, you did. You actually did.”  
  
This time, Jim can’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around the dog and laughing because Spock—the epitome of dignity—just mind melded with him via  _butt sniff_.  
  
He will never be able to look at the Vulcan the same way again.  
  
Not surprisingly, Spock doesn’t see the humour in the situation nor does he appreciate the hug. Instead, he ignores Jim in favour of turning to Bones. The two dogs begin exchanging soft growls and whines, ears occasionally folding back and raising up as they ‘talk’. And because Spock and Bones have the most expressive eyebrows onboard the Enterprise, Jim thinks it’s safe to assume that their ears have taken over that function.  
  
There’s an excited yip and a little scruffy dog comes running over, its short tail wagging with zeal as it sniffs Jim over and exchanges happy whines with Bones and Spock. The new dog’s got a red collar around his neck, and Jim’s instincts tell him that it’s Scotty. He reaches down to pet the dog only to get his hand licked and thoroughly covered in drool. He doesn’t even know how such a little thing can drool so much.  
  
Scotty wags his tail and grins at his handiwork before returning his attention to Bones and Spock. Jim discreetly wipes the drool off hand on his pants and watches them with a mixture of amusement and curiosity—Spock with his perfect posture, Bones with his annoyed growls, and Scotty with his almost drunken cheerfulness. He wonders if they have poker nights on this ship because he’d be willing to pay a ridiculous amount of credits just to watch.  
  
After a minute of ‘conversation’, Spock exits the room with the rest of the pack, leaving Jim alone with Bones and a couple of engineering dogs. Scotty’s little tail never stops wagging as he trots over to the transporter and begins sniffing around; presumably, to diagnosis what had gone wrong during the transport.  
  
Exchanging glances with Bones, Jim’s not sure if the dogs understand him or not, but he asks, “So, now what?”  
  
Radiating displeasure, Bones heaves a very Man-Bones-like sigh and makes his way to the door. It makes Jim feel right at home. When Bones realizes that Jim hasn’t moved, he turns around and shoots him an impatient look that says ‘Hurry the hell up, kid. I don’t have all day.’ Then proceeds to leave the room with a low growl—probably the canine way of complaining about transporters and how they’re nothing but unnecessary health hazards.  
  
Apparently Bones is a grump regardless of universe and form. And right now, he’s taken on the form of the cutest and scruffiest grump Jim’s ever seen. He takes solace in this consistency because despite being a grump, Jim knows that Bones will take care of him no matter what. Protective and loyal, Bones makes an excellent dog, he thinks.  
  
“Hey, Bones, you’re literally a son of a bitch now!” He can’t help laughing at the sudden realization.  
  
If Bones understood him, he’s choosing not to dignify him with a response.  
  
On the way to the sickbay, Jim passes dogs of every shape and size and wonders how the dogs managed to run the ship with their size differences and without opposable thumbs. The mind meld had shown him a lot of things, but he still wants to see the technology for himself. When they reach the sickbay, he finds all the beds at ground-level and there are buttons where levers used to be.  
  
Bones walks over to one of the biobeds, or rather, bio _mats_ , and sits in front of it, casting him an expectant look. Familiar with the routine and Bones, Jim walks over and sits on the mat, watching as Bones circles him, scanning him over with the tricorder in his mouth.  
  
Jim thinks it’s the most  _fucking_  adorable thing he’s ever seen.  
  
At one point, a white ball of fur with a blue collar comes by to give him a couple, curious sniffs. Bones growls and it leaves with its tail wagging and a pleased look on its face, almost like it was laughing at the bigger dog. Jim assumes it to be Chapel, the only nurse brave enough to outright tease the eternal grouch that is his CMO.  
  
When Bones is finally satisfied with his check-up, he puts the tricorder down and sits and stares at him in that way that dogs do—only more unimpressed. Jim isn’t bothered by it in the least and grins and can’t help reaching out to ruffle that oh so soft-looking fur. He scratches the dog and coos in the most exaggerated manner possible, “Good boy, Bones. Who’s a good Bonesy? Who’s the best CMO in Starfleet? Yeah? Is that you? You bet it is! What a good Bonesy.”  
  
Jim’s never been more pleased with himself for giving Bones such a great nickname.  
  
Bones has never looked more peeved.  
  
His tail remains obstinate and refuses to move, and he manages to look downright annoyed even though his eyes are closed from the pleasure of having his ears scratched. The contradictory son of a bitch. Jim decides to make it his personal goal to get Bones to wag his tail and to give him at least one belly rub while he’s stuck in this universe.  
  
“Are you worried about Canine-Jim, Bones?” he asks conversationally. The dog opens his eyes and looks at him, clearly displeased that the scratching stopped. “I’m sure Man-Bones is taking perfectly good care of him.” Then he adds with a snicker, “I bet Canine-Jim tries to hump you like, _all the time_ , doesn’t he?”  
  
To no surprise, he receives nothing but an exasperated sigh from the dog.  
  
\--  
  
“Jesus Christ, bad Jim-Dog! Down! I swear, if you try to hump my leg one more time, I’m going to tie you to the desk! Sit still, would you? I need to scan you over for rabies and Lyme disease. I swear, if I see a single flea on you, I’m going to shave off all your fur!”  
  
“You know, I had my doubts at first when you said that this dog was the captain, but after seeing this… Well, I think I’m pretty convinced.”  
  
“Thank you for your commentary, Doctor M’Benga, I’m  _so_  glad you believe me. Now will you please come help me with this damn—get off me, Jim-Dog!”  
  
\--  
  
After being released from the sickbay, Bones shows him around the Enterprise. Jim’s admittedly very impressed at all the adaptations they made to the ship to make it more canine-friendly. So far, the gym’s his favourite. It amuses him the most because it’s so hi-tech. There are automatic ball throwers and a racetrack with a lure, and the more he thinks about it, the more impressive he finds it.  
  
Jim can’t help being excited when they finally make their way to the bridge, wanting to see what his crew looks like. Bones barks and announces their entrance and the first thing Jim sees after stepping through the door is a puppy, excited and panting, running towards him. His whole body sways he’s wagging his curly tail so hard. The pup rolls onto his back when he gets to Jim’s feet and whines for a belly rub.  
  
Grinning, he reaches down to scratch Chekov’s stomach, watching as the pup’s leg starts kicking on its own accord. “Hey there, buddy. You’re Chekov, aren’t you? Excited to see me? Yeah? Aren’t you just the cutest genius puppy in the world?” He turns to Bones and asks, “Why can’t  _you_  be this happy to see me, Bones? If you roll onto your back, I promise to give you the best belly rub you’ve ever had.”  
  
He’s still not sure if the dogs understand him, but Bones scoffs and waits for him to finish playing with Chekov with a bored expression on his face. Looking around, Jim can practically feel how uninterested Uhura is. Sitting there with her long, silky fur perfectly combed, she looks as impeccable as always. He’s tempted to pet her just to be able to tell everyone about it, but Spock’s in the room, and Jim’s pretty sure that the canine equivalent of a Vulcan nerve pinch is a dismembering bite, so he’s not about to risk it. Sulu, short haired and impassive, spares him a glance and wags his tail a few times in greeting before turning back to the screen in front of him.  
  
Looking around, he spots the captain’s chair with Spock sitting nearby. He’s not sure what’s expected of him since it’s technically Canine-Jim’s ship and not his. But Bones gives him a light push and trots over and takes a seat next to the chair, so he follows suit. Sitting cross-legged on the captain’s mat, he tells Bones while rubbing the dog’s chest, “You know, Man-Bones would probably have a heart attack if he saw that the ship was being piloted by dogs.”  
  
Jim feels like he just took their PDA to a whole new level by giving Bones a chest rub in front of the crew to see. Suddenly self-conscious, his hand stops and falls back into his lap.  
  
Bones cocks his head to the side, and Jim’s about to pull him into another hug, but they both get distracted when Chekov starts scratching himself. Floppy ears pricking up in alarm, Bones gives Jim and Spock a grunt and gets up. He walks over to Chekov and picks the pup up by the scruff and leaves the room.  
  
Although Jim feels bad for Chekov who’s probably about to get a bath, he can’t get over how adorable this entire universe is.  
  
\--  
  
“Don’t roll onto your back while I’m yelling at you! Oh, now you want a belly rub, hmm? Well, you’re not getting one so you might as well get up. Maybe you should’ve  _listened_  when I told you to stop running around with my hypospray. …dammit, Jim-Dog, don’t look at me like that. You brought this onto yourself. …oh for the love of— _fine_! But don’t expect to be getting another one any time soon.”  
  
“ _Wuh-pssh_!”  
  
“Dammit, Chapel, did you just make a  _whipping_  sound? You take that onomatopoeia back!”  
  
\--  
  
At dinner and sitting on the floor with all the other dogs, Jim’s amusement dies a little when he sees the replicated kibble. Bones watches him expectantly, waiting for him to eat. He shakes his head. “Sorry, Bones, I know you like watching me eat and all, but I need people food. Can’t really chew through this stuff, you know?”  
  
When the dog blinks and cocks his head to the side, he opens his mouth and points at his teeth.  
  
Hazel eyes regard him for a moment before trotting off to fetch something else. He returns with a bowl of wet dog food which makes Jim wrinkle his nose in disgust. Bones’ ears twitch and he casts him a curious and an increasingly alarmed stare. Jim figures Bones is worried about him starving to death because nothing’s really fit for human consumption on the ship. Not wanting to give the dog a panic attack, he grabs a chunk of chicken from the bowl and eats it. “This works just fine.” It actually tastes pretty good, and it’s way better than having to eat kibble. So Jim shrugs and digs in with his hands. “Thanks, Bones.”  
  
Relaxing, Bones turns back to his own bowl and begins eating his kibbles.  
  
Jim bets his canine self is having a blast in the mess hall.  
  
\--  
  
“Doctor McCoy, Lieutenant Commander Scott, please stop feeding the captain scraps under the table.”  
  
“Aww, but the poor lad’s still hungry!”  
  
“The captain has already ingested 226% of his required daily calorie intake. And that is not including the ingestion of Ensign Chekov’s shoe.”  
  
“You hear that, Jim-Dog? Mr. Spock here’s calling you fat.”  
  
“Please do not look at me like that, Captain. I understand that you are disgruntled, but I was merely stating the facts.”  
  
\--  
  
He sleeps on a surprisingly comfortable dog bed that night. It’s big enough for two or three dogs, but his legs stretch out beyond the length of the bed. Bones shoots him a worried look. Jim smiles and pulls the dog close, having every intention to use him as a makeshift heater. “Don’t worry about it, Bones. I’ve slept in worse places.”  
  
Bones huffs and curls up and sleeps by his stomach.  
  
\--  
  
“Don’t look at me like that, Jim-Dog! You should’ve known that there’s no way in hell I’d let you crawl into bed with me without giving you a bath first, you mangy mutt! Sit still! You had all those other offers but you chose to sleep here with me, so suck it up. I’m already using my water ration on you! Wait, what are you?—don’t shake! Don’t shake! Goddamn it!”  
  
\--  
  
Jim manages to give Bones a surprise belly rub when he wakes up—much to Bones’ annoyance.  
  
He’s never seen a dog so unhappy to get his stomach rubbed.  
  
\--  
  
“Stop licking me, Jim-Dog. Go away. It’s too goddamn early to do anything right now. You can go walk yourself—oof! Get off me, you’re heavy! Okay, okay, we’ll walk! We’ll walk! God, you’re such an  _asshole_ , Jim-Dog. I hate you— _so_ much.”  
  
\--  
  
On the way to the transporter room to see how Scotty’s doing, Jim reflects on how much fun it would be to bring the dogs over onto his ship just for a day—or forever, in Bones’ case. “You know,” he tells the dog, “I’d really like to kidnap you and bring you back to my universe once Scotty finds a way to send me back.”  
  
Bones sneezes and continues walking by his side.  
  
Still adorable.  
  
“I can’t wait to tell Man-Bones what an awesome dog he makes. Man’s best friend indeed.” Then he pauses when he tries to imagine himself as a dog based on what Spock showed him when he first arrived. “Oh god, I really hope Canine-Jim doesn’t go around marking his territory on my ship.”  
  
\--  
  
“Holy shit, you’ve got to be  _the_  dumbest dog in the universe! Of all the people to piss off on this ship, you just  _had_  to go for the one with the sword, didn’t you? What the fuck possessed you and told you it’d be a good idea to fucking _piss_  on one of Sulu’s plants!? Don’t give me that look, Jim-Dog. This was in no way my fault. You should’ve known better. That’s right, you  _better_  keep that tail tucked between your legs. And keep walking, we’re almost back at our quarters—hopefully the doors will hold up against being pried open by a fucking  _sword_.”  
  
\--  
  
He should’ve seen it coming. After a long while of pestering Bones by tickling his ears or blowing at his nose, Bones finally snapped and nipped him. There’s no blood drawn or anything and Jim totally deserves it, but it still makes him yelp in surprise. “Ow! Bitch!”  
  
Uhura sends him a withering look.  
  
_Of course_  she’s figured out how human speech works.  
  
“Sorry, didn’t mean it that way,” Jim mutters and turns back to Bones. “Way to go, Bones. You bit me  _and_ got me in trouble. I should charge you with insubordination for this.”  
  
Bones just  _wags_  his tail.  
  
\--  
  
“I don’t know, Leonard, I think I like him better like this.”  
  
“I can tell by the way you’re rubbing his belly, Nyota. Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Jim-Dog. Just watch, he’s going to go back to his doggy pals and brag about this.”  
  
“You’re looking more tired than usual. Is this pooch giving you a hard time?”  
  
“This ‘pooch’ is insane.”  
  
“Have you tried using a spray bottle?”  
  
“….”  
  
\--  
  
On his third night there, Jim’s starting to miss the sound of human voices more than he cares to admit. He’s even begun dubbing over the barking and growling in his head. And because Bones knows him regardless of universe and shape and size, he makes a soft, worried noise and begins sniffing him over. “Don’t worry, Bones, I’m just a little homesick is all,” he tells the dog.  
  
Tilting his head, Bones eyes him for a moment before disappearing somewhere. A moment later, he returns with a big juicy bone and offers it to Jim—the canine equivalent of a nice bottle of bourbon, he assumes. If Bones was a cat, he’d have a stash of catnip.  
  
Jim smiles and hugs the dog. “Thanks for the offer, Bones. You’re the best. But you can share this with Canine-Jim when he gets back, okay? He might be a pain in the ass and a son of a bitch, but I bet he misses you a whole lot because whether you know it or not, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, so don’t ever leave him, alright? Forget man’s best friend, you’ll always be  _my_  best friend regardless of universe.”  
  
Bones gives his face a reassuring lick.  
  
\--  
  
Jim finally gets back to his own ship on the fifth day. He’s never been so relieved to hear the sound of people talking. Everyone seems relieved and even glad to see him save Uhura who merely heaves a disappointed sigh and returns to her post. Bones is all up in his face, scanning him over for diseases and fleas, and Jim wants nothing more than to tell him everything that happened. But then he sees  _Spock_  and all he can do is  _laugh_.  
  
\--  
  
“You were the grumpiest dog I’ve ever seen,” Jim tells Bones later in his quarters, enjoying a drink of bourbon. “Absolutely adorable though. I wish I kidnapped canine-you and brought him over for you to see. You even had a stash of bones.”  
  
Bones chuckles. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah. What was Canine-Jim like?”  
  
“Jim-Dog? He was a menace.”  
  
Jim arches an eyebrow. “Jim-Dog? You called him—me Jim-Dog?”  
  
“Yep. It’s short for Jim- _Holy-Shit_ -You’re-a-Dog. The alternative was Jim-You-Fucking-Son-of-a-Literal-Bitch, which would then be shortened to Jim-You-Fucking-Bitch or just Jim-Bitch, but that didn’t have quite the same ring to it,” Bones explains with a shrug.  
  
“It’s kind of wordy. Good call on Jim-Dog,” Jim tells him. “He didn’t do anything too crazy, did he?”  
  
Bones scoffs. “You mean,  _aside_ from taking a piss in Sulu’s garden?”  
  
His jaw goes slack. “Oh, shit, I didn’t….”  
  
“Oh, shit, you did,” Bones tells him with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure he was ready to cut you into pieces. If you do it again, I doubt he’ll be as forgiving.”  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind.” After a moment, he sighs and says, “I guess this means I don’t get my victory sex.”  
  
“No, you don’t.”  
  
“What about ‘thank god you’re alive’ sex?” he asks, hopeful.  
  
Shaking his head, Bones replied, “Nope.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“I never once doubted your safety. So no ‘thank god you’re alive’ sex either.”  
  
“What about ‘thank god you’re human again’ sex then?”  
  
Considering the proposition for a moment, Bones shrugs. “Maybe.”  
  
Jim smirks and lets his hand creep up Leonard’s leg. “Only maybe?”  
  
“Technically, you were still human, only in a different universe, so I’ll have to think about it first.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure I can convince you otherwise,” he reassures the man with a laugh.  
  
Bones arches a brow in amusement. “Is that right?”  
  
“That’s right. Maybe I should give a chest rub. Canine-you seemed to enjoy those. I wonder if it’s a shared trait.”  
  
“I would strongly advise against you testing your little theory out.”  
  
“Oh? And what are you going to do about—” Jim gets cut off when a spray of water hits his face. Blinking in bewilderment, he gapes at the spray bottle in Bones’ hand. “No, you did not just….”  
  
Grinning, Bones squirts him again. “ _Down_ , boy.”


End file.
